Brankin Huoh

  Braulor was freezing from head to toe, shaking involuntarily. He rubbed his hands together to try and generate warmth but it was of little help. He could start a fire but due to his upgraded status of Citadel escapee, he thought it best if he didn't make it easier for those hunting him to track him down. He flexed his hands, back and forth like he was gripping something invisible. On top of being cold as ice, they ached from having maintained the same grip all day.

  Braulor knew that he couldn’t stay near the river for long and once he had dispatched Droinj’s broken body down the river, he had carried Tagan into a forested area nearby and found a safe place to get some rest. They were well hidden in a patch of thick bushes and after making sure Tagan was comfortable, he lay down beside him and fell asleep.

  When Braulor had woken the sun was getting long in the day. He looked beside him to see that Tagan was still unconscious and he sighed. He couldn't carry Tagan for long distances and they couldn't stay where they were. They may be safe for now but Braulor knew they had half a day, at best a full days, head start on the Citadel guards but it wasn't enough. He knew that what they lacked in time they made up for in well rested men and it wouldn't take long for patrols to catch up to them behind the noses of their hounds. They had the added benefit of food and water as well where Braulor couldn't remember the last time he ate. A low rumble issued from his abdomen as a reminder it had been a while.

  Braulor stood up to survey the area, tight and aching muscles complaining as he did. Spotting some thin trees beyond the bush they were behind he made for them and used Droinj’s sword to cut down five supple young trees. When the trees were all down he dragged them back to where Tagan was and hacked off all the branches and then cut two of them to the same length and laid them on the ground perpendicular to one another. Next he cut the other ones into smaller pieces of similar size and laid them across the two pieces on the ground.

  Braulor looked at his handiwork and then went off in search of something to tie it all together. He chose to use the long, slender branches of a weeping willow he happened across. The branches were strong but pliable and he lashed the cross beams to the main poles. He laid Droinj’s clothes on top of it and then carried Tagan over and placed him on the makeshift stretcher.

  Not my best work Braulor admitted to himself but we have to move on. He hitched up the ends of the poles near Tagan’s head and trudged away from their hiding spot.

  Braulor avoided the main road but stayed close enough that he could use it to navigate. Without a clear idea of anywhere else to go Braulor decided to make for Vjeinka Rise. Once there he could rest and figure out his next move. Alrei Yqu didn't give him much instruction about what to do if he succeeded in freeing Tagan. He only charged Braulor with getting Tagan out of the clutches of the Citadel. What came after that was a mystery.

  Darkness was deep when Braulor had decided to stop, hands aching with renewed vigor. He had gone as far as he could that day. Braulor abandoned the stretcher for the time being and carried Tagan over his shoulder, up a small rise and found a nook in the rock face to put him down. He went down and hid the stretcher closer to the river and then after dunking his head in the river, drank his fill of water. Feeling refreshed he looked around for something to eat. He managed to find a small patch of bramble berry bushes. He gorged on their ample fruit but remembered to bring some back with him to where Tagan was in case he awoke.

  Tagan was still unconscious when Braulor returned so he sat down nearby, his back to the hillside and watched, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  Like he was rising from the depths of a lake, Tagan drifted awake. He knew he was waking, yet he didn't want to. He had so many questions for Meyu Kwi and he didn't know when he would get another chance to ask them. He wished he could have stayed with Meyu Kwi until his curiosity was satisfied but it wasn't meant to be. Tagan would have to figure some things out for himself.

  Tagan was back at full consciousness now, his soul reanimating his body like a hand sliding into a puppet, but he didn't open his eyes. He lay there for a few minutes feeling his body, assessing if there was anything broken or cut but he seemed to be whole. He opened his eyes and blinked several times to clear the blurriness. Once he could focus properly Tagan realized he couldn't see much. It was dark, pitch black, and the stars shone brightly in the night sky; the new moon absent. A little ways away he could see Braulor's form, huddled against the wall of the cliff they were on, legs hugged tightly to his chest, head slumped on his knees, lost in slumber. Tagan stared at him. All these years and I have a brother. I owe him my life he realized. Tagan didn't know where they were but he could see lights from the Citadel, sparkling like another star, off in the distance. Braulor must have carried me here he realized and his admiration soared. Tagan wanted to wake Braulor and share everything he had learned from Meyu Kwi but decided that Braulor's rest was more important. So he let him be while he took up the watch. He pushed himself up from where he was laying and walked around as best he could on the small ledge they were occupying. His muscles were stiff and tight and his fingers found many areas that were tender to the touch. His fall from the Citadel window wasn't as easy on his body as he thought. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could see the Jaswulder River snaking its way through the landscape, dark and mysterious. Tagan’s tongue licked his lower lip, the sandpaper feeling making him realize how thirsty he was. Looking over he could see Braulor was still fast asleep. Tagan decided he could afford to make a quick trip to the river to get a drink. He made his way down the small trail from their perch and into the surrounding flat area. His muscles were warming up and he walked with less pain to the river's edge.

  The water was so quenching. Tagan drank and drank like it was the finest wine and then lay back on the bank, his stomach sloshing as he rolled over. Faint traces of red were stretching across the sky from rim of the eastern mountains. A howl echoed and Tagan's senses bristled. He sat up and listened. At first he could only hear his heart beating, pounding in his ears like a war drum. A second howl pealed in the night coming from the same direction as the first.

  It didn’t sound like the wolf pack cries he heard back on the farm. The howl died on the light breeze and all was quiet. Then barking. Two short yips and it went quiet again as if someone had slammed a door. The image of a dog handler muzzling his charge popped into Tagan's head and he sprang to his feet. Damn it. There was a patrol nearby. Disoriented from the disruption of the howls it took a moment for Tagan to remember which way he had come and he high tailed it across the road. He looked behind him to see if he could spot anything and he ran right into something solid and fell to the ground.

  "Ouch. Tagan is that you?" Braulor whispered.

  Tagan looked up at his brother holding his forehead where they had collided. "It's me."

  "What are you doing?"

  "I woke up and was thirsty. I went to get a drink."

  "I thought you fell off the cliff or something; scared the heck out of me."

  "Did you hear that howling?"

  "No. I woke up and you were gone. I panicked and ran down here to see if I could find you when we ran into each other. You heard howling?"

  "While I was at the river side, then I heard two quick barks."

  "Wolves?" Braulor’s brow was furrowed, but he knew better.

  "I don't think so. The way the barks ended, it was as if someone shut them up."

  Tagan didn't have to say anything else. He could tell Braulor was thinking the same thing he was.

  Braulor whipped his head around like he was expecting dogs to come running from behind the nearest tree. "Wait here." And he ran back up the trail, returning so fast it was as if he hadn’t been gone at all. Braulor handed Tagan a knife and the berries he had collected earlier, then he shoved the sword through his belt. He disappeared once more and came back with the stretcher he had fashioned. They took the clothes Braulor had lain across it and rubbed them all over their bodies, embedding them with their scent. While Braulor
ran across the road and hid them in the tallest grass he could find, Tagan ate the berries Braulor had given him. It wasn't much but his stomach was thankful all the same.

  Braulor came sprinting back. "That might confuse them a little. Maybe buy us some time but not much. We’re going to have to run for it."

  Tagan swallowed the last of the berries he was chewing and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Lead the way."

  Braulor took off, running straight to the road and then turning east. Tagan was right on his heels.

  They followed the road for perhaps two miles before Braulor stopped. Tagan pulled up beside him and fell down on his knees, his chest heaving, as he gasped for breath. Braulor remained standing, doubled over with his hands on his thighs, taking long, deep breaths. When his breathing was back to normal he straightened and paced up and down the road looking for something.

  "Why are we following the road?"

  "We need to put as much distance between us and that patrol as we could. The road was the fastest way. But you’re right; we need to get off the road." Braulor continued to search along the edge of the trees. "There is a trail around here. It's not used much so it is hard to spot but we can use it to get us high into the mountains. It'll be harder for a patrol to follow us."

  Tagan got to his feet and admired his brother as he watched him walking along the side of the road. He seemed so strong to Tagan. Capable. Not afraid of anything. Tagan opened his mouth, about tell Braulor what he had learned from Meyu Kwi but Braulor interrupted him.

  "Over here." Braulor motioned for Tagan to join him but he didn't look away from where he was peering.

  Tagan joined him, stowing his thoughts for now, realizing it might not be the best time.

  "This is the trail."

  Tagan looked where Braulor was pointing and could see a thin line worn into the dirt that disappeared in broken segments into the woods. It looked like it was made by some small animals that traversed it at times to get to and from its burrow. Small trees and brush crowded it from both sides with branches reaching into the trail like skinny, pokey limbs. If Braulor hadn't told him it was a trail, he would have passed right by it.

  "It's not used much, as I said, but it will get us away from here. We only use it when we need to get across the Knalb Mountains in a hurry.”

  "If it gets us away from the Citadel patrol then I am all for it." Tagan put his hand on Braulor's shoulder.

  There was a pause where both of them wanted to say something but didn't. Braulor stepped onto the trail and took off. Tagan, after a quick look around, followed.

  The first night on the trail had been quiet. Draax didn't really expect anything to happen but the legend of the Infrey Trail alone was enough to cause fitful sleep. Paranoia at every cracking branch or animal noise could tease the stoutest men into a state of fear. For his part, Draax had slept like a baby. The same couldn't be said for many of his men. For the first time ever there had been no shortage of volunteers to man the watch. Even though none would admit to it, they were afraid and staying awake on watch was much more desirable than lying there trying to sleep while your imagination ran wild. At least if you were on watch you could defend yourself. Die like a man, if that was your fate, with your sword in hand. Not wrapped up like a newborn infant, cowering in your blankets.

  After much grumbling and groaning that degraded into outright threats of Draax leaving them all there to fend for themselves, they ate a hasty breakfast and were on their way again. They had been on the move for a couple of hours now and the lack of sleep was catching up to the men. Legs were getting heavy; focus waning when Draax called for a break. It was good time for a rest anyway as they had come to another of the steep inclines that the Infrey Trail was famous for. They found a suitable spot where they could lay out and relax while they had a light meal.

  Glad for the break the men flopped down on the ground where they stood. Some chatted in low voices while they ate. More than a few pulled their hats down over their eyes and tried to catch up on some much needed sleep.

  Draax dropped his pack and sat on top of it while he took a drink from his canteen. It was hot and humid on the trail, even if the sun couldn't penetrate the canopy of tree tops, and he was sweating like a moose in the midday sun. He made sure to put his canteen away after a few sparing sips. He didn't know when he would get the chance to fill it up again. He mopped his brow with his sleeve and scanned his mercenaries. Something wasn't right. One of them was missing. He stopped mopping his brow and stood up to get a better look thinking someone was obscured behind grass or someone’s backpack. His subconscious head count wasn't wrong. Frewar was missing. "Where's Frewar?"

  Activity came to an instant standstill like someone hit pause. Men stopped eating in mid chew and glanced around with wide, fearful eyes. Those who were trying to sleep were up in a flash, sword in hand, looking about.

  Draax had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Frewar had been acting out of character ever since they entered the Infrey Trail. Draax could sense it. Frewar hadn't objected when Draax put him on point this morning so he thought it was only the jitters and Frewar had worked his way through them. Now he was missing. "He was on point. Rittwi, you were behind him, didn't you see anything?"

  Rittwi rubbed his eyes with his sword free hand. "You called for a break and I turned around. I thought Frewar did the same.”

  "You didn't actually see him turn around though?"

  "I'm tired Draax," Rittwi pleaded. "And this trail is spooky. It’s hard to think straight."

  Draax agreed. The trail did seem to be exacting a toll from them. That thought never made it to completion though as a blood curdling scream rent the air cutting the conversation short. Everybody was on their feet now, weapons drawn, feet planted squarely, bracing for anything that might come. They all watched the trail ahead, scared to blink, waiting for something to happen. Minutes passed that felt like hours and no more sounds. No nothing. The trail was dead quiet. There was nothing in the bushes around them or in the sky above. It was as if the world had stopped.

  "Everybody hitch up their packs." Draax’s voice was a hair above audible, even in the soundless void they were occupying. He leaned down and found his own pack without taking his eyes off the trail.

  Most of his men had shown fear when they first heard the scream and seemed unsure about what was going on but they had something to focus on now. That put them back in mercenary mode and each of them shouldered their packs with the stealth of a predator and readied weapons; their tired faces grim with determination.

  Draax motioned them all to come closer and they formed a tight circle around him. "We're not leaving Frewar behind. We have to go up there and find out what happened."

  "Did you hear that scream? There ain’t no Frewar to leave behind." Gryvir stepped from foot to foot, eyes bugging out. "I say we go back the way we came. That fool should've listened up and he wouldn't be in this mess. Serves him right."

  Many of the men nodded their agreement with Gryvir’s sentiment. They had had enough and it was time to get out of there.

  Draax looked to each one of them in turn. It had come to this had it? "Cowards." It was all he could think of to say even though the assembled men were some of the bravest people he had ever known.

  "Frewar knew the risks." Rittwi tried to assuage his own feelings of guilt.

  "He wouldn't leave a single one of you behind and you know it." Draax pointed at each of them in turn with the most scathing look he could. A few of the men who were in agreement moments ago to abandon Frewar looked down at their shoes.

  It was what Draax had hoped. He didn’t want to go up the trail either but felt he owed it to Frewar and he wanted as many men with him as he could get.

  They stood in their little circle casting sidelong glances at one another, nobody saying anything, nobody wanting to be the first. The time had come to part ways and Draax knew it. "Ok. Anybody who wants to go back, go, I won't stop you, but remember this, if our paths cross agai
n, you will pay.”

  Gryvir looked around. "Who's comin' then?" Four of the men nodded while avoiding Draax’s eye. Without another word Gryvir turned back down the Infrey trail toward its start, the four men falling in line behind him. None of them looked back.

  Draax glared at them as they left, shaking his head. He didn't begrudge them anything for leaving. The mercenary life was tough and more often than not, it was every man for himself. He was lucky to have gone this far with them and not have them turn on him. If he was honest with himself, he glared at them because a part of him wanted to turn tail and join them, but he owed Frewar more than that. Of all the men he had commanded, Frewar had always been his go to guy. The one man he trusted above all the others. Perhaps that was why men had chosen to leave him behind; out of some petty jealousy. No matter now. Their path lay ahead.

  Draax motioned to the remaining men that they were heading out. "Klaine, you take the lead. I'll be right behind you. The rest of you come behind me and keep close."

  They moved ahead like praying mantises, picking their steps with extreme care to avoid any unnecessary noise. The trail steepened once they were out of the little clearing. Draax could hear the men breathing harder as they ascended but still maintained their stealth. It may be their only advantage. Draax’s head shifted from side to side looking for any signs of Frewar's passage but there was little to see in the dense brush.

  At the top of the rise they stopped. Draax walked forward past Klaine scoping the immediate area. The trees were thinner at this elevation and Draax could see that it was flat in all directions; moss covered mounds and boulders dotting the landscape in a haphazard way. The trail went straight ahead for perhaps a hundred feet or so and then disappeared around the edge of the mountain as it turned to the right.

  Draax looked back and signaled the men to follow and resumed traversing the trail once again. His heart started to pound as they neared the turn in the trail ahead and he gripped his sword, knuckles whitening as blood flow became restricted. Flattening himself against the cold rock of the mountainside, he leaned out and looked to the right, down the trail.

  "They're behind us." Gryvir erupted from the bush behind them onto the trail, screaming. Blood was streaming across his face from an ugly slash on his forehead.

  Rittwi crested the hill behind Gryvir and fell forward on his face and didn't move again.

  They all spun around as Gryvir closed on them and readied for an assault. Gryvir stopped running as he reached them. "Damn it Draax, they got behind us."

  "Who got behind us? Where are the other men?" Draax was confused and angry at their sudden appearance.

  They all listened as Gryvir told them what happened through his gasps for breath. "We didn't get far and they were on us; swarming from all sides. Rittwi and I were the only ones that got out of there."

  "Who attacked you?"

  "Don't know Draax. It was like they were ghosts or something. It all happened so fast." Gryvir pressed his sleeve against the cut on his head.

  "Ghosts?" Draax tried not to believe such things and chalked ghosts and hauntings and the like up to an over active imagination or too much drink.

  "I don't know Draax. We were following the trail and… and." Gryvir stopped talking, staring at the ground.

  "And what?" Klaine was frustrated at the lack of information.

  "It got dark all of a sudden. Shadows were flitting from tree to tree. I could hear laughter, like the shadows were taunting us. We stopped to get our bearings and we could see sunlight through the trees but it was like we were looking out from behind a black fog. Then they appeared."

  "Who appeared?" Draax, determined to get some straight answers, was losing his temper.

  "I don't know who. Like nothing I have ever seen before. Materialized right in front of us and attacked. Before we could hit them back they would disappear. Then appear again somewhere else and attack again. Three of us fell on the spot. Rittwi and me, we made a run for it. The shadows followed us, laughing as we ran. Like they were having some sport with us or something. That's it. Rittwi is dead. They are all dead. So are we Draax. So are we." Gryvir looked into Draax’s eyes and then fell silent, staring off into the distance.

  A dreadful silence hung in the air as each of them evaluated the situation.

  "Well, we can't go back.” Draax regained his focus and took charge. “Ostr, get what you can from Rittwi. He won't need it anymore.”

  Ostr nodded and went to Rittwi's body and searched it, taking anything useful and returned to the group. He passed around the belongings he had scavenged and gave Rittwi’s weapon to Gryvir, who had lost his in his flight.

  "As far as I am concerned, you’re still on your own." Draax poked Gryvir in the chest with a stubby forefinger. He was considering tying him up and leaving him here to fend for himself but Gryvir was good with a blade and you could never have enough of that in a fight. Draax expected they would soon be fighting for their lives. He took a breath and squared his shoulders. Regardless of what Gryvir said, Draax felt if he could see it, he could kill it. Without waiting for his men, Draax stormed up the trail and disappeared around the bend.

  The men scrambled to get organized and followed him, making sure to leave Gryvir at the back of the line. They rounded the corner and found Draax had stopped a few feet further ahead. Joining him they could see Frewar's pack lying in a pool of blood. His body was nowhere in sight. A quick bit of reconnaissance revealed a wide swath of burgundy that led away from the pool of blood that used to be Frewar and into the trees. They all looked at each other with shame as none of them were inclined to see if they could find any more of Frewar’s remains. Not even Draax. They gathered around the pool of blood. Each of them lost in thought, wondering what could do something so horrific, so quickly. A few tried to say words of goodbye but it felt awkward and inappropriate so they stopped. Most had the sense that their own end was nearer than they would like and were grappling with how to meet their own death. Trying to find a way to reconcile their lives as to have some sort of meaning but each of them realized their death would mean nothing. They would die, leaving behind a pool of blood and a pile of bones that would eventually turn to dust. They took Frewar’s pack, distributed its contents, and kept moving. Frewar was in a better place now.

  Progress slowed after they found Frewar's blood soaked pack. Between that and Gryvir's account of the attack he had witnessed, the pace was measured. The men didn't want anything sneaking up on them and their heads were constantly swiveling from side to side, scanning for any signs of danger with wide, alert eyes.

  Draax stayed in the lead as the trail hugged the side of the mountain once more, eyes locked on the path in front of him. To his left the cliff wall fell away hundreds of feet. He breathed a sigh of relief as they made it to the other side and the trail once again widened, allowing them to walk two abreast. The same mounds of earth dominated the landscape here, the path winding through them, off into the unseen.

  Gryvir brought up the rear, a piece of cloth tourniqueting a bandage in place on his forehead to stop the bleeding. His pulse had come down but his eyes still bulged out like a lizard watching a fly; neck muscles tense as he swept the landscape. Back and forth, searching, waiting.

  "Anyone need to take a break?”

  Everyone shook their heads, too afraid to even talk.

  "All right. Let's keep moving then." Draax turned down the path anew.

  A blur of darkness flashed through a shaft of sunlight off to his right. By the time Draax turned his head, it was gone. If he hadn’t heard Gryvir's account he would’ve have given it a second thought as a trick of light and shadow. Knowing that blur of darkness led to the death of four of his men gave the event a terrifying edge and piqued his attention.

  Not wanting to alarm the rest of the men, Draax kept his head pointing straight forward while his eyes darted from side to side looking for more. He didn't have to wait long. Another blur to his left. Then two to his right. Faint laughter tickled a
t his ears. A burst of several dark blurs directly on the trail ahead. Draax stopped and Klaine walked straight into him. All around it started to dim like the light was being choked out, blotted from view. Slight at first but down four or five shades darker in the time it took for their hearts to start hammering at their ribs.

  "What's going on Draax?" Klaine was so close to Draax he could see the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

  "It must be what Gryvir was talking about." Draax tried to sound calm and collected, when he was anything but.

  The rest of the men huddled up close in a tight bunch, watching as the darkness descended on them, feeling like children caught by their bullies.

  "C'mon then." Gryvir screamed making everybody jump. "Don't tease. Let's get this over with.” He took off his pack, dropped it to the ground, and ran straight toward where it was the darkest.

  "Gryvir." Klaine reached out to stop him but was too late, catching only air.

  Gryvir yelled like a savage man set free, swinging his sword above his head. As he brought it down the shadow in front of him disappeared, reappearing to his left so fast you could have sworn it was two separate beings. Gryvir groaned and lurched to his right, dropping his sword, blood flowing in sticky waves from an unseen wound beneath his armor. A knot of shadows descended on him, like bees attacking a threat, delivering the fatal blows that ended Gryvir's pain.

  Draax watched in horror. He had never seen anything like this. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run but his feet felt they had grown roots.

  Some men panicked and tried to run back down the trail the way they had come.

  Draax could only listen as the final seconds of their lives ended in horrible, gut-wrenching screams. More than one scream trailed off over the cliff edge, ending in abrupt silence.

  "We have to stick together." Draax shouted at the men still with him, his voice shrill. He hoped the urgency would cut through the shock and kick-start their fighting instincts.

  His men were white with fear but they nodded at him as the command penetrated into their brain.

  They could only move forward now and Draax motioned to his men to follow.

  A low moan broke out as they went. It was coming from all directions and it rattled each of them anew. Draax’s' heart was up in his throat. For the first time in a long time he was scared. Not just scared, terrified. His men were as frightened as he was. He could feel it the air. Draax wanted to say something profound to calm them, to calm himself, but he could think of anything. He wasn’t sure his mouth would work anyway.

  Shadows were all around them, circling, closing the gap in measured increments like some sort of slow motion tornado of doom and they were caught in its eye. Draax stopped walking and he and his men formed a circle of their own, facing their tormentors. The shadows drifted closer and as they did the moaning turned into a long howly-wail followed by peals of laughter.

  Klaine was sobbing to his left. To his right, Ostr was shaking so hard against him, Draax thought it was his own body convulsing. He wrenched the pack from his back and threw it at the closest shadow. It hit nothing but air and landed with an uninspired thud several feet away. He pulled his sword from his belt and found that having a weapon in each hand made him feel better.

  Klaine and the other three took off in opposite directions, all at once; as if it was something they had planned and forgot to tell Draax.

  The cluster of shadows dispersed, giving chase to each man. One shadow remained in front of Draax, firm and unmoving.

  Draax steadied his nerves. He had to get out of this. Somehow he had to find a way.

  The shadow began to drift toward him, slow and deliberate, like it was getting a thrill from prolonging the fear. The blackness eased toward Draax, playing with him the same way a cat would taunt a mouse, teasing the horror from him in heart pounding blips.

  The urge to charge the shadow and attack grew in intensity the nearer it came but Draax resisted. He had seen what happened when Gryvir took the initiative and decided to stand fast where he was and make death wait. Make it come to him. If he was going to die it would be on his own terms.

  The shadow was almost within striking distance when it began to change shape. The darkness pulled and contorted, form taking shape from dark. The form of a man clad in all black. A pronged helmet rested on his head, coming all the way down to cover where its face would be, wells of soulless, murky black for eyes.

  Draax looked at the form and reassured himself that he could kill it.

  A long arm, hand covered with a menacing bracer, drew back its cloak, the other hand reached across and dragged a wretched blade from its scabbard, pointing it at Draax. A moan followed as if it were making some pronouncement on Draax. Judging him and convicting him of some crime he was unaware of.

  Draax steadied himself. He followed with his eyes as the shade drifted to his right. Draax slashed out toward the shade with his sword in sideways fashion, looking to slice it right in half. His blade flashed as it cut through the air, driven by a rush of adrenaline mixed with fear.

  The shade disappeared as Draax's blade swung and reappeared in front of Draax as he had hoped. When he had begun his attack with his right hand, he had started a second attack with the left a split second later. He stabbed his little short sword forward and the form reappeared right in front of it and had no time to react as the blade slammed through its armor, burying itself deep in the shades chest. Pain shot through Draax's left arm and it went numb right up to the shoulder, flopping to his side. Draax staggered back, leaving the short sword where it was.

  A horrible shriek erupted from the form as it fell to its knees. Even as it died it took one last swipe at Draax with its blade before falling face first to the ground. The body lay on the ground for a second or two before it disappeared for good, dissolving into the ground like rain on a parched stretch of earth, leaving a thin, black outline burned into the earth.

  The shriek brought Draax to his senses and he ran, jumping over the scarred earth where the shade had died in a single leap. He didn't look back to see how the other men were doing. Draax was beyond caring what happened to them. He only knew he had to get out of there. He wouldn’t get so lucky next time. The shades would make sure he died an extra painful death in revenge of their comrade. He didn't need to look back and see if the other shades were coming for him. He assumed the death knell of the slain shade had alerted the others and Draax ran as fast as he could. Trees were flying by in blur. He couldn't do anything about his left arm so it flapped around, keeping time as he fled down the trail like a rubbery metronome. He only hoped it wouldn’t trip him up. Another moan reached his ears. Unlike the previous ones, this moan was full of rage and tinged with murderous intent. A longing to cause grievous harm captured in twisted harmony. Draax gulped and tried to run faster but he was already at top speed.

  High peals of laughter and delight at this puny mortals attempt to flee. Where did he think he would go? Nobody ever got away from the shades. This one would be no different.

  The path took a downhill turn and Draax kept running, his legs moving faster than he thought possible as he tried to navigate the slope at high speed. The laughter was getting louder in his ears. They must be getting close. The trail bottomed out and turned to the left but Draax was going too fast and couldn't navigate the turn. He tumbled off the path into the woods, smashing through brush and bramble. He rolled to a stop and scrambled to his feet, head spinning; chest heaving as his burning lungs fought to get oxygen into his system. His sword had gone flying as he tumbled and he didn't know in what direction. Shades were storming down the trail straight toward him, dark like the prow of night. Blinded with panic, Draax turned and ran, crashing through bushes and tree branches like they weren't even there. They clawed at his arms and legs as he went but couldn't slow him down.

  A large mound appeared in front of him as he jumped through some low brush. He could see an opening cut out of it and ran toward it. If he could get inside, he might be sa
fe. He sailed through the opening and went tumbling down some stairs, landing at the bottom with a crash, and looked back up the stairs, through the opening. Even though it was dark, Draax could see the shades coming toward him but they had slowed as if they were apprehensive.

  Draax lurched to his feet and searched for something to use as a weapon, anything. Then he saw it. Mounted on the wall a few feet away was a staff. It shimmered as he spied it even with the absence of light inside the mound, and he lunged for it, wrenching it from the wall. Draax held in front of him with his good right hand, ready to defend himself but the shades had stopped approaching. He swallowed hard and glanced around not understanding what was happening. Why weren’t they attacking? Tearing him apart as they had the others? Draax swung the staff at the closest shade and it drifted safely out of reach but no counterattack. He swung again in the other direction and once again the shades moved out of the way. The shades were wary of the staff he realized.

  Draax stepped toward the shades to test his theory and they dispersed a ways but still blocked his way out. Another step, this time with more confidence, and they pulled back a little farther. Two were edging around trying to get behind him. Draax charged and hit the closer of the two with the staff. Draax moved with such agility, the shade didn’t have time to get out of the way. It screamed as the staff touched it and disappeared in violent flash. The second shade rejoined the group blocking the stairs.

  Encouraged with the staff destroying one shade, Draax waded in to the throng of them, swinging at anything that moved. Shades were snuffed out here and there and the group scattered to all sides of the mounds interior, trying to stay out of the staff’s reach.

  Draax didn’t even register what was happening. Blinded by rage he stormed around the chamber, cursing at them and daring them to come closer. He found himself face to face with one particularly elusive shade and with a fierce howl he swung the staff in its direction. It eluded the blow and a blast of sunshine hit Draax in the face. He blinked at the harsh light but it cleared his head, breaking the spell of his rage, and he realized the stairway wasn’t blocked any longer and he bounded up them, unable to believe his good fortune. As he crossed the threshold back into the light, the mound started to rumble. He didn’t care, he just kept running. The ground all around him began to tremor and a heavy lurch knocked him off his feet. Draax rolled over onto his knees, bringing up the staff to protect himself from the expected attack but there was none. The ground around him continued to shake. It felt like he was on a carpet and someone had a hold of one end and was shaking it up and down. Draax had to balance on his three good limbs, cradling the staff, to keep himself stable. He watched, unable to do anything, as the mound caved in, falling in on itself in a dusty heap, much like a circus tent if the center beam was pulled. Then the earth opened up and swallowed the remnants of the mound like it was eating a grape. One last loud moan escaped the mound as it disappeared into the growing chasm, echoing in Draax's ears as the shades were destroyed. With a final, jarring, thud the earth closed together and went still, a circular ring devoid of vegetation, the only sign that anything had ever been there.

  Draax got to his feet, unable to process what he had witnessed. He stood and stared at the circle of bare earth, astounded that he had somehow survived; that he had escaped the shades. Even more amazing was how the mound disappeared as if it no longer had reason to be here. He looked again at the staff with renewed interest and then turned to go find his pack.

  Chapter 18